


brighter than the sun

by procrastinationfairy



Series: Steph!Robin Verse [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alternative Universe - Stephanie Brown Became Robin Instead of Tim Drake, Case Fic, F/M, Gen, Light Mentions of Jason Todd's Death, Stephanie Brown is Robin, Trans Tim Drake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:33:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29780349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/procrastinationfairy/pseuds/procrastinationfairy
Summary: “You’re Robin,” said the breathless boy in her arms. It had taken a lot of training to get strong enough to carry people around like this, and Stephanie still found it hard to believe that—“Yes, I am!” she beamed. Batman probably wouldn’t have wanted her to sound so giddy, but that was his problem. Stephanie was having a ball.//After Jason Todd died, Stephanie Brown became Robin. Tim Drake became Stephanie’s rich boyfriend.
Relationships: Stephanie Brown & Bruce Wayne, Stephanie Brown/Tim Drake
Series: Steph!Robin Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2188824
Comments: 5
Kudos: 68





	brighter than the sun

**Author's Note:**

> Steph deserved so much better as Robin, and I will do whatever it takes to give it to her. This is part of a series, but it can easily be read independently. (This is going to be the only fic with TimSteph as a main/permanent ship, but I do love them. I needed this.) To make things work, I’ve had to take bits and pieces from different points in canon, but hopefully it all works! Enjoy!
> 
> On tumblr @spideylovesgwendy

“You’re Robin,” said the breathless boy in her arms. It had taken a _lot_ of training to get strong enough to carry people around like this, and Stephanie still found it hard to believe that—

“Yes, I am!” she beamed. Batman probably wouldn’t have wanted her to sound so giddy, but that was his problem. Stephanie was having a ball. 

Not to mention the guy she was carrying was cute: a round face, sharp eyes, neat black hair that was almost a bowl-cut but still kind of endearing. B’s teaching lent her enough knowledge to gauge his clothes as _nice._ He wasn’t dressed in finery, but his clothing was definitely pricey. So not a poor kid, which made Stephanie wonder why he was on this side of town hanging out in front of the arcade. If he was a rich kid, he had to give off other tells that would let the locals clock that he was an easy target.

Stephanie almost felt bad about putting him down. But she couldn’t worry about that when she had a bomb to deal with. “Stay back. If this blows, there’s a blast. In fact, you should probably run,” she warned.

The boy stared at her for a moment, and it took a _lot_ not to look back as she ran back into the building. But she had others to evacuate, and she couldn’t worry about the cute boy or the telltale click of his camera. There were plenty of other cute boys in the world, but there was only one Robin. Stephanie had a duty to fulfill.

In fact, Stephanie entirely forgot about the cute boy until the next time she dropped by Wayne Manor. Bristol was way out of the way, so she biked as her cardio for the day. Never hurt to get a little extra training in. The good thing about this part of Bristol being so full of huge properties was that few snoots could actually see to the road and judge her for her crime of existing in their presence. The bad thing was when they stared, they stared. Stephanie felt the eyes on her, so she reeled around, prepared to confront her latest heckler when she saw cute boy.

Oh.

Same cute boy.

He looked kind of goofy now, dressed in a private school uniform, hair messy as he pulled off his helmet. Skateboarder. _Nice._ That was a point in his book.

Except he was staring to heckle her. Right. Stephanie had forgotten all about that.

“A girl not allowed to ride her bike anymore?” she asked, crossing her arms.

“What?” the boy asked. He blinked and looked around. “Oh. No. I mean, yes, yeah, you can ride your bike. I just—”

“Yeah, whatever,” she grumbled. Stephanie wasn’t in the mood to argue. Stupid rich people, always ruining her day.

“Are you going to Bruce Wayne’s house?” the boy asked.

She paused. “Huh?”

As she turned back to him, she checked that his face had flushed pink. Okay, he was really cute. Sue her. “I just… Sorry. Never mind.” He seemed to debate with himself before stepping forward, hand extended. “I’m Tim Drake.”

Oh, _that_ was a rich kid name. Stephanie smiled. “Stephanie Brown. Yeah, I’m going to see ol’ Brucey. He’s my mentor through the East End High School program.” That was their established story, which gave Stephanie an excuse to hang at the manor and tag along to various events.

“Cool,” Tim said, though he seemed less interested in what Stephanie was saying than her face. Oh. Was he flirting with her? She had to flirt back.

“So… you come here often?” Ugh. Okay. Not like that.

Tim smiled anyway. “Yeah. I live here. Uh, this one,” he said, pointing to the manor at the top of the hill like it wasn’t the only one in sight. “So, we’re kind of neighbors. Me and Bruce Wayne, I mean. Well, obviously, Mom and Dad own the house, but I live here, and I’m there more than them anyway—” He cleared his throat, eyes flickering around. “Um. Anyway. Guess you know the way there?”

“That I do,” Stephanie said, belatedly realizing that was probably an offer to walk her. Dang it!

“Right. Cool. Hey, if you ever need anything, I’m always here. Well, not always, I go out a lot. But you know, if something happens, and you can’t get to Wayne Manor, like you have a flat tire, you can just come up to the house and wait. Or—”

“How about I get your phone number?” Stephanie pounced. “So I can check if you’re home.”

Tim blinked. “Oh. Yeah, that would work,” he agreed.

Score. What an awesome day. She got the cute boy’s number, and she didn’t even have to be Robin to do so.

Not what Batman thought, of course.

“You’re late,” he said when she walked into the Cave. _Lame._

“I got caught up,” she said, hopping into her designated chair and chowing down on the sandwich Alfred had made for her after-school snack. “Did you know you have neighbors? Ones that aren’t bats or ghosts?”

Batman didn’t turn, but Stephanie knew he was listening. He always listened. He was cool like that. 

“I met one of them. His name is Tim Drake. He’s about my age, I think, and—”

“Son of Jack and Janet Drake, owners of Drake Industries. A good connection to have,” Batman mused. “His parents aren’t involved in anything directly criminal, but they have contacts who are.”

“You want me to use a cute boy to spy on his parents?” Stephanie asked.

Batman grunted. She took that to mean yes, but he wasn’t going to say it directly.

“He seems nice,” she said, reaching for the orange next. Alfred always peeled it so nicely. What a trip to get to live like this. “He gave me his phone number in case I ever get a flat or something. Actually, he was at the arcade when it exploded—”

Batman grunted again. That one she knew: Continue.

“He was kind of staring at me when I drove by. I thought he was just wondering what I was doing in the neighborhood,” Stephanie said.

 _Hn._ Clarification, question.

“I thought—” she started. “Actually, I don’t think— I _thought_ that was why he was staring. But now that I think about it, he was acting funny. And at the arcade, he had a camera.”

Another grunt. 

Stephanie took a breath. “At the arcade, he was dressed to conceal his wealth, but not well. His clothes were all neat with no frayed edges, holes, or stains, even though he didn’t have a designer label. He had a backpack with three pins: one for Batman, one for Robin, one for the trans flag. He also had a camera bag—a Nikon, 35mm film—”

“Did he take a picture of Robin?” Batman asked.

Stephanie paused. “I wasn’t looking,” she said. “But I think so.”

“Keep an eye on him,” he told her. “Whatever his reasons for being there, we can’t risk his making a connection between Stephanie Brown and Robin. Your secret identity is _paramount._ Understand?”

He kept his back to her, but Stephanie knew where he was looking. At the glass case, at Jason Todd’s uniform. Stephanie hadn’t known Jason well, but from what she knew, he was nice. And he was Bruce Wayne’s son. 

He _was_ Robin.

Stephanie’s Robin was different. For one thing, she was a girl. She looked absolutely nothing like Jason Todd, or even like Dick Grayson. Everyone knew that Robin was someone new, and that was a statement. For Batman, it was also an acceptance.

Stephanie wasn’t Bruce’s daughter or anything, or even an attempt at a replacement child. She was just the kid who had come along at the right time. She had to count herself lucky.

“Hey, B, what are we doing tonight?” she asked, eager to change the subject.

Batman gestured for her to join him at the computer. Batman and Robin had work to do.

* * *

Stephanie had a few thoughts about the role of Robin: It was a big responsibility, passed down from the best. Stephanie was wearing big shoes and rocking them. Of course, it helped that she had Nightwing to look after her. 

Which was why it was always fun when Nightwing turned up for patrol. 

He didn't do it often. He was still mad at Batman for not telling him about Jason's death. He was mad he missed the funeral. And he was so close to Barbara. If Jason’s death left its mark on how Dick felt about the Joker, Barbara Gordon’s injury sealed it.

But Nightwing came once a month or so, mostly to check up on the new Robin. “You’re good for him,” he’d remarked on their first patrol together. “I think you remind him of Jason—in a good way. But you’re not trying to be him. He needs that balance.”

Stephanie had to agree. She remembered how Bruce had been when she’d first met him. Like most Gothamites, she’d assumed Bruce Wayne was as much of a himbo as he wanted the world to think. Standing in front of the Jason Todd memorial, Stephanie hadn’t seen that man. She’d seen a father full of love, full of grief, too heavy to move.

“Jason was nice,” she’d said before she could stop herself. Bruce Wayne had looked up at her, all sharp blue-gray eyes, searing like ice. Stephanie almost jumped back. But she didn’t. “I went to school with him, Mr. Wayne. Before… Before you adopted him. He was a grade above me, but he was always really nice. Once, when boys threw pine cones at me on the playground, he threw them back to protect me.”

Stephanie never knew what compelled her to tell _that_ story. But Bruce’s lips quirked into the faintest of smiles. He looked back at the plaque and closed his eyes. “He was a very good kid,” he said quietly. Stephanie’s father had never talked about her like that. She couldn’t help but think that Jason had been lucky to get to have a dad like Bruce. How unfair that he’d waited so long only to get that taken away.

Funny how things had changed since then. Stephanie had been Robin for almost a year—six months of training after the first three months when Bruce had started that mentorship program for her. And now she had a great life, chilling with Alfred at the manor, working with Bruce on cases, and sometimes, getting to patrol with Dick.

“Up! You need to keep your form tight,” Nightwing instructed as Robin fumbled her landing. He was always teaching her new ways to move, and that was _awesome._ She took a deep breath and tried again as she leaped to the next room. “Nice. You’re getting better every time I see you.”

Robin grinned. Even with her hair pulled back, she felt the wind wicking away the sweat, burning her exposed skin. Her cape fluttered behind her. “It’s practice, practice, practice. Besides, B is a tough teacher.”

“He is,” Nightwing agreed. “But he’s really proud of you.”

Robin was glad the wind had already made her face red. “Yeah? I’m just… being Robin.”

“You’re a good Robin,” Nightwing assured. He landed behind her and took his first hit, knocking her off her feet. Wow, rude. “But not perfect yet.”

“I think you’re just scared I’ll surpass you,” Robin joked.

Nightwing grinned. “Oh, yeah, that’s it. I think we should be glad you didn’t become Batgirl. Babs would have had some tough competition. Come on. Let’s meet back up with B.”

Batman was only a few streets away, puzzling over the latest riddle. The Riddler was on a long con, it seemed. They’d been working on this case for over a month, and they still weren’t any closer to getting a resolution.

“How many now, boss?” Robin asked as she took her place at Batman’s side.

“Three,” he grumbled. “Two weeks for this one.”

Robin hummed as she leaned to take a look at the riddle. This was not her forte. She hummed and filed away the riddle to puzzle over later. Maybe she’d work it out when she was writing in her diary. Sometimes that helped. “You think he’ll make his move then?”

“Not yet,” Batman said. “He’s waiting for something. This is a game.”

“Isn’t it always? Maybe we just need to toss them all into a playpen with a few toys for enrichment,” Robin said.

Batman grunted. A laugh. She knew her boss well. She grinned. Nightwing snorted.

“I need to get back to Bludhaven. Stay out of trouble, Robin!” he called.

“Never!” she jeered back.

“Robin,” Batman warned.

Robin smiled innocently. “Sorry,” she said, not sorry at all. She watched as Nightwing disappeared into the distance. “So what’s next on the agenda, boss?” she asked.

Batman hummed. “Go home. You have school.”

“What?” 

“You have school, Robin,” he repeated. “You can think about this riddle after a good night’s sleep.”

Robin groaned. “Oh, come on.”

“What are the rules?” Batman asked.

She waved her hand. Yeah, she knew them well. He was barely okay with having a Robin again. Stephanie had to listen. For being Robin, she could handle a few rules. “Meet tomorrow?”

“No. Friday. We’ll talk,” Batman said. “Now go.”

* * *

When Stephanie rolled her bike up to the door two on Friday, Alfred was already poking his head out. “My apologies, Miss Stephanie,” he said. “Master Bruce has left the country on sudden business. I see you didn’t receive his message.”

No, she sure as hell didn’t. When she checked her phone, she found a brusque message which came two minutes _after_ she started her bike ride. And now she’ll have to bike all the way home…

“You’re welcome to use the facilities,” Alfred said, but Stephanie’s mind had already jumped to another action.

“Actually, I think I’m going to go visit a friend,” she said, hammering out her text to Tim. They’d chatted a few times, but nothing serious. _You home?_

He answered back quickly. _Yeah. Why?_

Perfect. Stephanie hopped back on her bike and took the short trip to the manor next door. That ride was easy, even if her hair was already sticky with sweat. Whatever. It was just Tim. She rang the doorbell and pulled her hair into a ponytail to hide how nasty it looked, just in time for a woman to answer. She had Tim’s round face and dark hair, but altogether, her features were harsher. She raised a brow at Stephanie. Oh.

“Hi,” she said, pinning on the smile she’d learned from Bruce. “Is Tim home?”

“Stephanie!” Tim came barreling behind the woman—his mom, probably—not in a uniform now but still dressed nicer than before, a neat polo with a sweater tied over his shoulders, pressed shorts. Oh, rich boys.

“You know her?” Mrs. Drake asked.

“This is my friend, Stephanie,” Tim said. “She’s being mentored by Bruce Wayne.”

Mrs. Drake hummed before turning back to Stephanie with a smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, young lady. Won’t you come in? I apologize for the lack of reception. Timmy didn’t inform us he was having a guest.”

“I—” Tim said, but his mom shot him a look. 

“Jack, hurry up, dear!” she called, walking out of the foyer. The Drake Manor was just as obnoxious as the Waynes’, but at least the Waynes felt lived in. If Stephanie knew Tim any better, she would have mocked him for the obnoxious portrait of his family looming over the staircase, but she elected not to mention it at the moment.

“Sorry. They’re packing for a trip,” Tim explained.

“A trip?” Stephanie asked. 

“Mom and Dad are archaeologists. They have a dig—”

“A very exciting dig. I wish we could tell you all about it, but we’re in a rush,” Mr. Drake said as he walked past Tim. He ruffled his son’s hair. “Maybe next time.”

Tim shrugged. “Sure, Dad,” he said, like he wasn’t entirely sure he believed it. Scratch that—Stephanie was pretty sure he didn’t believe it at all, but he wasn’t going to tell his dad that.

“Stephanie, was it?” Mrs. Drake said as she dragged her luggage behind her. “Please, stop by anytime you like. You’re always welcome, especially if you’ll be in the neighborhood often. Perhaps you and Mr. Wayne would like to join us for dinner one night—”

“And your family, of course!” Mr. Drake interjected.

Mrs. Drake nodded. “Of course. If you’ll excuse us, we have a flight to catch, and we’re running _late,_ thanks to you, Jack—” She stopped and leaned over to kiss Tim’s cheek. They were just about the same height. “Be good, Timmy. Mrs. McIlvaine will be by to check on you. She _will_ inform us of any misbehavior, and that includes late assignments, young man.”

“It’s not my fault,” Mr. Drake replied as he carried his own luggage towards the door. “Listen to your mother, Tim. I do not want a repeat of last time.”

Tim nodded, though he looked like he wanted to protest. Somehow, Stephanie got the feeling that his parents were normally harsher than this. Maybe just from the look in his dad’s eyes. At least they were headed right out. When the large wooden doors slammed shut, the foyer felt emptier than ever, with only Stephanie and Tim staring at each other.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean—” Stephanie started.

“They’re not usually—” Tim said. He smiled awkwardly. “I didn’t realize when you texted…”

“Bruce had to go out of town,” she explained. “I didn’t want to ride back home immediately. Guess I shouldn’t have just…”

Tim waved his hand in the air and gestured for her to follow him. They walked to the kitchen, a room that was slightly homier and made a little bit more bearable by the fact that the freezer was filled with burritos and hot pockets. Tim may have been a rich kid, but he was still clearly a teenager. “Don’t worry about it. They’ll probably forget about it sooner or later. They still get my friends Bernard and Ives confused, and the only thing they have in common is that they’re blond.”

“Right,” Stephanie said. She waited until Tim took a seat on one of the barstools to join him, even as he bent backward to grab two cans of soda from the fridge.

“You a Zesti or a Soder kind of person?” he asked.

“Zesti, all the way,” Stephanie said.

Tim grinned. “A girl after my heart. That’s all we have anyway.”

“Cool beans,” Stephanie said.

Tim’s smile faltered, and his expression grew a bit more intense. Stephanie was hit with the urge to lean away, but her Robin instincts kept her from backing down. “So… what’s it like to be mentored by Bruce Wayne?” he asked.

Stephanie could have deflated. Actually, she _was_ deflating. She was a sad little helium balloon three days after the party, coming down from her high. Of course this cute, rich boy wasn’t interested in her. He was interested in Bruce Wayne. “Oh. It’s cool,” she said with a shrug.

“Yeah?” he asked, leaning closer, intent. “Have you ever met… nn… Dick Grayson?”

Or maybe he had a crush on Dick. Stephanie could kind of understand that. Dick was really nice, whenever he stopped by. But he was way too old for Tim and not near as cute as Steph, so really, Tim was missing out. She didn’t even know why she said, “Um. Yeah. You want me to introduce you? I think he has a girlfriend though.”

Thankfully, Tim didn’t react how she expected, with starstruck, lovesick eyes. He scrunched his nose. “Uh, yeah? I mean, I knew— I figured— Oh. Oh, man, no. No! I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, laughing nervously. “No, I was just curious. See, I saw the Flying Graysons when I was younger, and I always wanted to… I never got the nerve to talk to him because I thought it would be weird. Hey, I’m Tim. I have a picture of me on your knee from the day your parents died. I was watching.”

Stephanie snorted. “Oh, man, that would be so awkward.”

“Wouldn’t it?” Tim agreed. “It was a cool show though. They were nice.”

They both fell quiet, and Stephanie curled her fingers around the can of Zesti, condensation clinging to her fingers. “Dick doesn’t come by all that much. I met his girlfriend once though. She’s like crazy tall and a model. Super sweet. They’re sickeningly in love.” She sighed. “Almost enough to make _me_ want a super tall model girlfriend. Or a boyfriend. Or anything. I’m not picky.”

“Would the boyfriend have to be super tall?” Tim asked. She looked up. His cheeks were bright pink, and he looked like he was ready to crawl inside the collar of his polo.

Stephanie, on the other hand, was over the moon. “No! Height isn’t a big deal for me,” she assured. “I just… like someone nice. Someone easy to talk to.” Someone who liked her. She’d learned that lesson too well with her ex. Sometimes, Stephanie wondered where she’d be if she wasn’t Robin. It was nice to have that positive influence in her life telling her she mattered.

“Oh. Cool,” Tim said with a nod. He sipped at his soda, lips curled around the edge of the can. He was _so cute._ “Isn’t that what everyone wants? Someone easy to talk to? Who gets you?”

“You’d think,” Stephanie said. 

“Is it too dramatic to say I don’t know how anyone could find someone like that?” Tim fiddled with the soda tab until it came off, pinched between his fingers.

“Definitely,” Stephanie laughed. “I’m not saying I’ve found someone like that yet, but I think it will happen when it happens. Or maybe it’s one of those things where you have to get to know someone before it clicks. Don’t all those TV marriage counseling advice shows say that love is work?”

“Never watched a TV marriage counseling advice show, but I’m intrigued by the premise,” Tim said very seriously, turning to face her now. He unhooked the sweater from his shoulders and dropped it to the floor. “Is that what you like to watch?”

“One of the things, when I’m in the mood for trash,” Stephanie said. “What about you?”

“I like true crime stuff. TV, blogs, podcasts,” Tim shrugged. “Sometimes I like to watch conspiracy theories on MeTube. There are some cool videos about pet grooming. I was watching a series about beekeeping—”

“Beekeeping?” Stephanie asked. 

“Yeah, it’s—” Tim lit up at the prospect of talking about this topic, and Stephanie felt like she was already in over her head. It was too soon to say, but maybe this was how to meet someone who just _got_ it.

* * *

The riddles were piling up. Bruce had devoted a specific board to them now: six in the last three months, each with coordinates leading to the next. They all knew that something big would be coming at some point. The question was what and when?

“Maybe he doesn’t know yet. He just wants your attention, and he’s trying to keep you busy and annoyed while he figures it out,” Stephanie reasoned, slumped in her chair. She turned around, hiking her legs over the back and dangling her head upside down.

Bruce hummed. “Possible.”

Possible but not sure. And as long as Bruce wasn’t sure, he wasn’t going to drop the case. Stephanie understood. They had a duty to the city, and they couldn’t slack off. She hopped up and joined him in front of the board, staring down the newest riddle: _What school teaches you to greet people?_ This one was different too. No coordinates, just _north._ Very helpful, Riddler. 

“This has to mean a school, right?” Stephanie said, pressing her fingertips along the words.

Bruce curled his lips. “Seems likely. What else do you notice?” he prompted.

“Well, the coordinates—which schools are on the north side of town?” Stephanie mused. “And what use would he have for targeting a school? Riddler isn’t usually the type to threaten for no reason. I think the real question is what does he want?”

“These riddles are too generic. He doesn’t want us in step with him. He wants us following along,” Bruce said. “The real riddle hasn’t happened yet.”

“So it’s about keeping you busy and annoyed,” Stephanie reasoned.

Bruce almost smiled. “Probably,” he said, patting Stephanie’s head.

She beamed. “So we know it has to be a school. Time to check the maps, right?”

“Good. You’re learning.” Bruce walked back to the computer. The map of Gotham flashed up on the screen. Stephanie leaned closer and peered over the streets. Trouble was, in a city like Gotham, there were a _lot_ of schools. Even when narrowing down ones on the north side, they were left with a list of ten. 

“The riddle,” Bruce prompted. “How do we narrow this down?”

“The answer?” Stephanie asked. “Well… Hi school? High school.”

“High school,” Bruce agreed. “Take a look at this list and do some research. Send me a report.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Stephanie agreed, saluting wildly.

Bruce snorted and patted her head again. “Good. Now let’s talk about your grades.”

“They’re good!” Stephanie assured. One of the rules: She had to keep her grades up. Not that she was against that. She still has three years until college, but getting into a good school was her aim. Steph thought she had a good shot, considering her grades and the mentorship from Bruce, and she had to keep that up.

“I’m aware,” Bruce said. “I… wanted to give you something. As a reward.”

“A reward?” Stephanie repeated. “Wow, I must have done something really good.”

Bruce cleared his throat, like he was coughing out his emotional constipation. Gross, way to mix metaphors, Steph. “You do a more than adequate job,” he said. “And I think it’s time to acknowledge that. You have the motorcycle for Robin. But Stephanie Brown could use a faster way in and out of Bristol.”

Stephanie couldn’t believe her ears. “You’re not saying—”

He was. Well, not a motorcycle. Unfortunately, state laws prohibited a fifteen-year-old from driving a motorcycle. Robin may have been except to the rule, but Stephanie Brown sadly wasn’t. That didn’t mean she couldn't get an electric scooter—standing, of course.

“It goes just under nineteen miles per hour,” Bruce instructed. “Which is fast as it _legally_ can go. Understand?”

“So it goes faster in emergencies,” Stephanie reasoned.

Bruce shot her a look. “In emergencies, you have—” He showed her all the ins and outs of Stephanie Brown’s perfect eggplant scooter, with a pocket to hide Robin’s uniform and as many little protections as she could need.

“Thank you, Bruce!” she said, throwing her arms around his neck. Bruce, like always, took a few seconds to hug back. But she understood. She did.

Sometimes she still couldn’t believe it, but she knew Batman loved his Robin.

* * *

Falling for Tim Drake was too easy. He was sweet and funny. Brilliant, clever, intuitive. Most of all, he listened to Stephanie like he enjoyed everything she said, and that was heady. He was a year younger than her, but he was mature, unlike a lot of boys her age. He listened to her problems so attentively, and he paid for all their dates. (Which was what they were now. _Dates!)_

“My parents genuinely don’t check what I buy except if I buy something crazy like…” Tim faltered, face pink. They were walking down the streets downtown, headed to the skate park. They couldn’t hold hands, with Tim carrying his skateboard and Stephanie holding her roller skates, but this was nice. “Well, when I first bought my camera, I didn’t think so much about price, just quality. And I needed some, um—”

“You were a spoiled rich kid who bought an expensive camera and accessories,” Stephanie laughed. “Wow. My mom got mad at me once because I stole a five from her purse to buy Xtreme Creme Kids at the Snacky Shacky.”

“Oh,” Tim said, face scrunched in between laughing and being solemn. “How many…?”

“Oh, it was a huge box, and Mom was planning on treating me to a pizza,” Stephanie explained. “Not that I wanted it after eating all of those Xtreme Creme Kids.”

“You ate them all?”

“Oh, yeah! Horrible idea! My tongue was so raw.” Stephanie could still imagine the sour crystals scraping her tongue, the cream stinging as it squirted out the middle. 

Tim paused. He slowed down. “You want to get some?” he asked.

“Huh?”

He pointed at the store behind her. Stephanie turned around. Oh. A Snacky Shack. She peered inside to the display, a giant box of Xtreme Creme Kids. Her stomach churned. “Oh, hell yes.”

Splitting a box cut down on the stomach ache, but the butterflies Tim gave her almost cut into it. Didn’t matter either way—after an hour of skating on Xtreme Creme-filled stomachs, both of them puked into the grass.

“You have the worst ideas,” Stephanie told him, fixing her hair tie with one hand while she wiped her mouth with the other. Puking on a sour crystal raw tongue? Not pleasant.

“To be fair, this was your idea first,” Tim retorted. He turned a bit green and bent over, shoving his helmet to the side before he could yak into it.

Stephanie _adored_ him. “Hey. It’s not nice to blame your girlfriend for your bad ideas.”

“Girlfriend?” Tim asked, eyes big and hopeful. He was so cute.

Stephanie bit her lip. “If you want? I mean, I figured—”

“Yeah! Yeah,” Tim agreed. He didn’t lean over to kiss her, which was probably a good idea after where their mouths had just been. He did take her hand, smiling that beautiful grin that made Stephanie swoon. “You’re my girlfriend.”

“And you’re my boyfriend,” she said. “Does my boyfriend want to pack up and go home before we get banned for this mess?”

Tim scrunched his nose. “Yeah. Yeah, we should go. I’ll call a—” He turned a little green for half a second as he pulled out his phone.

“Good idea.”

Tim was polite and dropped her off first. Stephanie danced her way through the kitchen, even with her stomach still churning.

“Steph, honey, is everything okay?” her mom asked.

“I have a boyfriend!” she cheered. “His name is Tim, and he’s a huge dork, and he held my hand!”

Considering Stephanie’s previous experience, this shouldn’t have been such an exciting thing. But something about Tim made her feel so giddy. She hadn’t felt like this since the first time she’d seen the Robin uniform made for her.

“This is not happening,” Batman had warned her when she’d followed him out in her home-sewn Robin uniform. (Because the villain had demanded Robin, and someone had to go. Stephanie had been there. She had to.) “You are not wearing that costume.”

Her stomach had sunk until they’d returned to the Cave and he sat her down in what would become her chair. 

“You need padding and protection. And you’re not going out until you’ve trained. This is not a game, Robin,” Batman told her.

Stephanie giggled as she collapsed into her bed, reaching for her diary. Her sweet, sweet confidante, keeper of all secrets _Tim_ and _Robin._ What an awesome day.

* * *

“Man, you got another riddle?” Stephanie huffed as she pulled on her Robin gear. Tights first, then the undershirt. The outer armor. The boots, the pads. B really was overprotective, but she wouldn’t complain. The padding had saved her butt more than once.

Batman grunted. As Robin sealed her mask to her face, she stepped forward to peer at the latest, already added to the evidence file on the computer.

_I never was, am always to be. No one ever saw me, nor ever will. And yet I am the confidence of all, To live and breathe on this terrestrial ball._

_What am I?_

“Huh,” Robin said.

“This isn’t good,” Batman said.

“No kidding,” Robin agreed. “Do you think we’ll get another riddle? Something to clarify?”

Batman grunted.

“So this is it. High school—”

“Tomorrow,” Batman finished. “Did you finish your list?”

“On the computer, boss,” Robin said, giving a dramatic salute. 

“I’ll review after patrol. You go home,” Batman ordered.

Robin blinked. “What? We have patrol. I already suited up.”

“And if something goes down tomorrow, you’ll need your rest,” Batman ordered.

“B, come on—” Robin leaped up, tightening her ponytail. “There’s nothing we can do about this case until tomorrow, and I’ll be fine. I’ve run on less sleep.”

“Orders are orders, Robin,” Batman said. “This is not up for discussion.”

“But—”

“Unless you want me to take that suit—”

“Master Bruce,” Alfred warned as he came downstairs. He carried a platter of cucumber sandwiches. Blech. Oh, well. At least it was something to eat. She bounded over and took one, along with tea to wash it down. “I hardly think these threats are necessary. Miss Stephanie has done nothing to warrant this behavior.”

Batman grunted like he did every time Alfred got onto him. At least there Stephanie kind of understood him. She felt the same way when her mom got onto her.

“Orders are orders,” he repeated anyway.

Robin knew there was no winning this battle. If she wanted to stay in the loop on this one, she’d have to stand down. And still… “Let me run comms tonight,” she reasoned. “I’ll be here in the Cave, and I can even do my homework while I’m waiting. It’s not that late. I can still make it home with plenty of time.”

Batman looked at her, deep in thought. Behind the cowl, the white lenses gleamed. Jason Todd’s uniform loomed behind her.

“Comms only. When I say to go home, you go home. Understand?”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Robin said with a salute. Alfred’s shoulders shook as he took to tidying the Cave. Whatever would they do without him?

Batman sighed. Robin knew that one too—the fond sigh, the one he gave to her or Dick when they did something that made him want to laugh but he refused to acknowledge. She wondered how many times Jason had gotten that sigh. She hoped she was living up to his legacy.

* * *

Mom was at work when the call came through. Stephanie had the day off because teachers were doing professional development or whatever. It would have been a good time to do homework, but instead, she took the time for a me-day. Facial after her morning workout and trashy TV. She could have lounged the day away. Except—

_“Robin. Third and Eighteenth. Gotham Academy.”_

Stephanie started. Gotham Academy? That was Tim’s school. “What’s the situation, Batman?” she asked, already tossing on her uniform. 

_“Riddler. Bomb. Hostages. 40 teachers and 600 students,”_ Batman reported.

Stephanie’s stomach twisted. “Do you know if—?”

_“Timothy Drake was scheduled to be in North Hall.”_

_North._ Crap crap crap. It was never _north._ It was North. Stephanie would have raced there no matter what, but knowing her boyfriend was in the building didn’t help. She hopped on her bike and took off.

By the time Robin arrived, the scene was filled with cops failing to talk down the baddies and concerned parents demanding to get their babies out of the building as fast as possible. Robin landed on the roof next to Batman. “We have a plan, Batman?” she asked.

“First, we get inside,” Batman growled. “Get the hostages out. Then we take on the Riddler.”

“Got it,” Stephanie said. “Should I go in first?”

Batman grunted, which meant yes. She took her shot at slipping into one of the windows off the side. The classroom was empty, which worked perfectly. The hallway was clear too, so Robin tiptoed across the swanky hallway (dreary though—what was _with_ rich people in Gotham and being as creepy and foreboding as possible?) until she heard voices.

“I need out of here now!”

“Let me go! Let me go!”

“Stop screaming—”

“—just want to go home—”

“Calm down. I heard one of the officers say Batman is here. He’ll save us.”

 _Tim._ Stephanie was so glad to hear his voice. That meant he was safe, for now. So she needed to keep it that way. Still, this was a good opportunity for some recon on the situation. She tuned in.

“How can you hear what the cops are saying?”

“I just heard one shout, ‘It’s the Bat!’”

“Do you think he’ll save us though?”

“Of course. Batman and Robin always come through.” Tim sounded so confident. He was such a nerd. Stephanie almost wished she could tell him the truth.

No time for those thoughts though. She heard footsteps down the hall, and she jumped against the wall, scaling the old-fashioned bricks until she could crouch on top of the ceiling. The footsteps continued until she saw the Riddler approach, all lime green and upside-down question marks. Well, Steph was upside down, but same thing.

“Let’s see. Who’s in this classroom?” the Riddler asked, slamming the door open. Stephanie’s heart stopped. Of course. Why would it be anything else? Why not Tim’s classroom? She wasn’t going to wait anymore. She dropped down and landed on the Riddler’s back. “Oh—ff—”

“Alright, kids, remain calm!” Robin ordered. The kids did not remain calm. Half started scampering out of the room in the opposite of a calm and orderly fashion. The other half cowered in the corner. Tim lingered by the window, turning around to face Robin with his big, sharp eyes. 

“Robin,” the Riddler hissed. “I was wondering when you’d show up. So the Bat must be near here. Good timing! You only have… ten minutes until—”

“Until what?” Batman growled. With B there, Robin hopped up and let him handle the Riddler while she dealt with the remainder of the hostages.

“Listen up!” Robin said sharply. The students looked up at her. “We’re getting out of here. Follow me, and everyone will be fine.”

“He has a bomb,” one of the students wheezed. 

Robin threw on her best comforting smile. “I know. But we’re here, and we’ll take care of it. So follow me to the exit—”

_“Robin!”_

She jumped. Batman had peeled down the hallway after the Riddler. Crap. Okay, change of plans. “Or… get out of the building as fast as you can! Tell others to do the same!” She took off after Batman. He’d stopped at the end of the hallway in front of a large panel. A giant _puzzle._ Oh. This must have been the bomb interface. The Riddler _would_ do this, wouldn’t he?

“Do we have enough time to get all the hostages out?”

Batman grunted. “Still a hundred in the building,” he said. 

“So no,” Robin said. She sighed. “Okay. Should I—?”

“Go,” Batman said.

Robin turned around. She came face to face with Tim.

He was heaving, sweaty in his uniform, crouched over, hands on knees. His face was pink from the exertion. Stephanie could feel her lungs burning just looking at him. How hard had he run trying to keep up with them?

“I told you to get out of the building,” she said. Why hadn’t Tim gone?

“I— I heard the Riddler—” Tim panted.

“You _heard_ me say to leave,” Robin said. She had to get him out before Batman intervened. 

“I _heard_ him mention the puzzle. It’s booby-trapped,” he said.

Robin frowned. She looked back at the puzzle. Batman hadn’t turned around, but he was listening. She nodded at Tim. 

“There are two solutions. One sets off the bomb. One shuts it down,” Tim said. His voice was growing a little clearer, and he straightened up. “I could—”

“Get him out of here, Robin,” Batman instructed.

“Come on,” Robin said, grabbing Tim by the wrist.

“Steph, I can help,” he insisted.

Robin’s face blanched. She didn’t dare look at Batman. Tim kept staring, those intense eyes looking straight at her. “I—”

“Let me help,” he pleaded. “I saw a picture. I know— I just—”

“Be _quick._ Show me the difference, and then leave,” Batman ordered. He glowered at Tim, which was a better reaction than Stephanie had expected. She was probably in for it when they returned to the Cave.

Tim nodded. He stepped forward, hands shaking. If Stephanie had one thing to say about her boyfriend, it was that he was pretty clever. Once he started, he moved quickly through the puzzle, setting up the first part of the solution with ease. She was almost enthralled.

“Enough,” Batman said. “Robin, go.”

“Yes, boss,” she said. She grabbed Tim’s arm and took off running.

When they reached the last group of hostages, she dropped Tim off to escape with the rest of them. She was prepared to run back in to join Batman when his voice buzzed in her ear. _“Getting the Riddler. Return to the Cave, Robin.”_

Great. Just what she was afraid of.

* * *

“How _irresponsible_ and _careless_ were you?”

After a year as Robin, Stephanie had gotten used to the lectures. There was always a post-mission briefing, but sometimes, Robin made mistakes. Sometimes, Batman got onto her.

Still, this one was pretty bad.

“Which is worse? Either you were careless enough to let a civilian connect Robin and Stephanie Brown, or you disobeyed orders and _told_ —”

“I didn’t tell—” Stephanie protested.

“So you were careless,” Batman said. He wasn’t wearing the cowl, but that expression was _all_ Batman. Stephanie didn’t want to look at him. She dropped her head.

“I didn’t…” Truthfully, Stephanie didn’t know what she’d done to let Tim figure it out. Sure, she’d met him as Robin once before, but that had been so brief. He was far from the first or last person she’d met as both Robin and Stephanie. What made him so special?

“We should count ourselves lucky that he isn’t willing to spread secrets,” Batman snapped. “That, however, does not mean he’s equipped to keep a secret of this magnitude. Do you understand, Robin?”

Stephanie nodded. She pressed her eyes closed, tears stinging.

“This secret is not a punishment. It is not something I use to drive a wedge between you and your loved ones,” Batman said. The anger was subsiding, but there was still steel to his voice. Stephanie stayed still. “This is about your safety. When someone knows your secret, they can put you at risk, whether they mean to or not. There’s a reason this job isn’t made for just anyone. Robin, I trust you. Do you trust Tim with your life?”

Stephanie opened her mouth. Then she shut it.

She wasn’t sure. They’d only been dating for a few months. She liked Tim, a lot. But trusting him with her life? That was a big thing. Which was Batman’s point, wasn’t it?

“I didn’t tell him,” she said. “And I don’t even know how he could have found out. He’s never been to my place. And I’ve _never_ left him alone with my bag.”

“He had to find out somehow,” Bruce said. Oh, good. Okay. Calmer. Stephanie could handle this.

She thought back. _“You’re Robin,”_ Tim had said the first time they met, when she was carrying him in her arms. The next time, the first time as Stephanie, he’d been staring. What had he said then? _“Are you going to Bruce Wayne’s?”_ He’d taken a picture of Robin. He had three pins on his backpack: Batman, Robin, trans flag. He’d stared at Stephanie. When Stephanie stopped by his house, he’d asked about Dick.

“He knew,” Stephanie realized. Of course he’d known. 

Bruce raised a brow.

“Tim knew, from the first time we met,” she explained. “I didn’t realize—but that was why he was staring at me. It had to have been. B, I swear, if I’d noticed, I would have—”

“He knows about Stephanie Brown?” he asked, careful.

Stephanie shook her head. “I think he knows about everyone.”

* * *

When Stephanie stopped by Drake Manor, Tim’s parents were gone again. He opened the door, dressed in his usual ratty jeans and a hoodie. Her heart clenched. She didn’t know how to feel.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” Tim said. He blinked once. “Um—” 

He stepped back. Stephanie pushed past him inside. 

“No one is here,” he added when he caught her looking around. “Mom and Dad are on a new dig, and Mrs. Mac went home for the day.”

That set off something else in Stephanie’s alarms, but she’d have to address that later. “How did you know?” she demanded. “Did I—? How?”

Tim paused. Finally, a sheepish smile spread across his face. “It wasn’t you,” he assured. “I’ve known for a long time. About Bruce—about Batman.”

Ah. So it was never just Stephanie + Robin = Bruce + Batman. It was the inverse. “How?” she asked. It was a big secret. Bruce was careful. Tim was fourteen. 

“I told you,” Tim said, walking over to one of the largely decorative cabinets lining the foyer. He opened a drawer and pulled out a photo. “When I was little, my parents took me to Haly’s Circus. I saw the last performance of the Flying Graysons.”

Stephanie took the photo. There was Dick, so young and carefree. Bruce didn’t even have a picture of Dick this young in the manor. Dick had taken all of his family photos with him to Bludhaven. On his knee, a little baby Tim sat, all overalls and shaggy hair.

“He did a quadruple somersault,” Tim explained. “And then—and then there was Robin, right? I was in town with my nanny, and I saw Robin do a quadruple somersault. And when I was watching a documentary on the murder of the Graysons, the narrator talked about Dick Grayson’s skills. Only kid who could do one. It just… made sense.”

Stephanie let out a breath through her nose. That did make sense. It wasn’t something most people would catch onto, much less a kid like Tim must have been. “So you knew about them. And then the next Robin—”

“Jason,” Tim supplied.

“And me?” she asked.

Tim shrugged. “I knew there was another Robin. I didn’t know her name until she introduced herself to me,” he teased.

Oh, embarrassing. Stephanie’s cheeks flushed. “Is that why you talked to me? Because I’m Robin?”

Tim hesitated. “It’s why I spoke to you then,” he said. “But it’s not—Steph, you have to understand, I love Robin. But I _like_ you. Batman and Robin are like the ideal. They’re superheroes. They’re cool. But you’re my girlfriend, and you’re _awesome._ I’m just lucky I met you because of Robin.”

Stephanie could accept that. That was almost romantic. “You’re crazy,” she said. “You know that, Tim Drake?”

He grinned. Stephanie wanted to lean over and kiss him. “Maybe. I used to try to follow them around. It was cool, to know the truth about Batman and Robin. When we lived in the city, I got to see them all the time. I only lucked out when we moved out here that we lived so close to Bruce Wayne.”

“When did you move out here?” Stephanie asked. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back, her sneakers rubbing against the fancy tile.

“After Jason…” Tim faltered. “You know, I was getting worried about Batman for a while. Everyone could see that he was being reckless. He could have died.”

Stephanie frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Jason Todd died as Robin, right?”

She nodded.

Tim leaned back against the cabinet. “So I figured Batman had to blame himself. And really, Batman _needs_ a Robin. It’s what keeps him in balance. And then you showed up.”

Stephanie stiffened. She remembered her first few appearances as Robin. There were so many questions. Expressions of disbelief. Anger. Plenty of sexist comments. She didn’t expect it from Tim, but that old reaction was hard to tame.

“You were exactly what he needed,” Tim said brightly, his sharp eyes soft as he stared at her. “You were like… this perfect, sunshiney Robin who stepped in and made Batman seem _safe_ again. I know I don’t really know Batman, but it seemed like you made him happy.”

Stephanie remembered the shell of Bruce Wayne she’d first met at the memorial. “I hope so,” she said. “I just… try. Being Robin is a special job. Tim, it… really means a lot to me. I can’t lose it.”

Tim furrowed his brow. “Would you lose it? Because I know? Oh, man, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“It’s okay,” Stephanie assured. “B is mad, but I think he’ll get over it. He just… doesn’t really like you.”

Tim deflated. “Oh,” he said, sad like a puppy dog.

Stephanie resisted the urge to squeeze him tight. “He doesn’t know you. What I want to know is why you didn’t tell _me?_ ” she asked.

Tim shuffled on his feet. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, strange girl, I know you’re Robin?’ Sounds like the way to get a kick to the gut.”

“You could still get one,” Stephanie joked, taking a step back and aiming. “I am your girlfriend, after all. You should have told me!”

Tim jumped away and laughed. “Hey, come on. I wasn’t trying to keep it from you. But you didn’t tell me, and I figured—”

“Okay, fair, fair,” Stephanie agreed, waving her hand in the air. “But no more secrets, Tim. If we’re going to be together, I need to know I can trust you.”

“Does that go for you? No more secrets from me?” Tim asked.

Stephanie hesitated.

“I see my answer,” Tim said wryly. “I’m not going to push it. But I want you to trust me. If I can help, let me. I may not be Robin, but I’m not useless. I can help _you._ I’ve got… money, and—”

“B has money,” Stephanie pointed out.

Tim grinned. “Is everything you do Bat-approved? If you ever want something without his knowledge…”

Stephanie laughed. “I’m not with you for your money, Tim,” she said. She stepped closer and reached for one of Tim’s hands. They were dry, calloused.

“I know,” he said. He squeezed her hand and leaned in. When he kissed her, Stephanie felt the same drop she had the first time she’d leaped from a building. Robins didn’t fall. They soared. Tim made her feel like that.

“I really like you,” Stephanie said. Ugh, so dumb. She was so not good at this.

But Tim smiled back. “I really like you too, Stephanie Brown.”

Bruce probably still wouldn’t be happy about this, but they couldn’t change facts. Tim knew their secrets, and while Stephanie wasn’t necessarily prepared to put her life in his hands, she had a feeling that she could trust him. And who knew? Maybe Tim would impress her in other ways. Maybe he was always meant to be her cute, awesome, rich civilian boyfriend. Stephanie was pretty sure she could call this a happy ending.

**Author's Note:**

> Ives was originally a redhead, actually, but I first saw him as a blond, which led to my confusion between Ives and Bernard. That's in there as a joke. Tim didn't even know Bernard back then. (But he does in my universe.) Tim also never attended Gotham Academy, but it's so much easier to smooth down the timeline if he just goes to one school. And Drake Manor simply made things easier on my end. I could go on, but as you can see, handling DC is like handling a very delicate souffle. I'm not going to risk deflating it.
> 
> I wanted to have a scene about Bruce helping Steph's family, but I couldn't fit it in here. Maybe in another fic...


End file.
